


What is the light

by unsungyellowraincoat



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Introspection, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungyellowraincoat/pseuds/unsungyellowraincoat
Summary: That year Mom can’t put up the Christmas tree.





	What is the light

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i wrote this for the evakteket skamenger hunt northern lights prompt. it's very unpolished and written in bed and now my wrist hurts. but enjoy! oh and the title is a [flaming lips song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmzbPLbA9cA).

That year Mom can’t put up the Christmas tree.

The single golden ornament dangling loosely off a branch of the Christmas tree rings as it falls onto the floor and shatters.

The sound echoes in Isak’s ears like cold steel even after it’s gone.

Dad flicks the tv on.

For a moment their silent reflection flashes on the screen like a 19th century photograph before the 9 o’clock news theme song starts to play.

Dad leans forward, points his finger at the news.

“No one’s surprised. They should’ve fired him ages ago. Fucking amateurs if you ask me,” he says as though it were a just a normal night.

Maybe in a sense it is a normal night, for them. Maybe they’re fucked up enough for this to still be considered normal.

Maybe Isak needs to become stronger.

Dad turns up the volume.

Mom’s eyelids flutter but she doesn’t sit up. Curled up on the sofa her body looks like it’s made of mist. Her arm dangling limply, the veins on her wrist like rivers on a map.

The ringing doorbell makes Isak’s shoulders tense.

Dad waves the back of his hand at him without removing his eyes from the screen. “Go get it.”

Jonas stands behind the door. His cheeks and nose are flushed from the cold. Isak hides the sight somewhere safe, deep in the forest of his mind.

“Hey man,” Jonas says.

“Hi.”

“Wanna come outside for a bit?”

Isak lets out a chuckle and peers over Jonas’s shoulder. It’s freezing outside but there is no snow, only the pitch-black darkness of December fallen onto naked trees.

Like being inside a garbage bag, Isak thinks.

“Hello,” Jonas repeats.

“For what?” Isak asks in suspicion.

“You’ll see,” Jonas grins. His eyes twinkle in the darkness. Isak can’t say no to him when he looks like that.

Hasn’t said no to him, ever.

“What the hell,” Isak snorts to himself, already throwing on his coat and a pair of sneakers. “Just let me go get my phone.”

“Don’t step on the floor with those shoes on,” Dad grunts in the living room. “Your mom doesn’t have the time to be cleaning up after your messes.”

“Whatever,” Isak mouths at his dad’s neck before heading out the door, carefully avoiding looking at Mom’s quiet figure on the sofa; even more carefully avoiding stepping on pieces of her Christmas ornament glimmering on the floor.

The night is clear.

They’ve been riding their bikes for a while now, and the cold air is starting to sting in his lungs. He tries to hide his face in his scarf: the fabric is damp, glistening with tiny drops of his breathing.

“Where are we going?” he yells at Jonas’s back.

“To the hut.”

“You think it’s still there?”

“Time to find out,” Jonas says and speeds up.

The hut is gone.

Gone save for a few sticks and stones. Isak’s heart sinks. It had taken them an entire summer vacation to build it.

“Damn,” Jonas says, biting his lip. “I was hoping there’d be more of it left.”

“After not coming here for ages?” Isak says as he lowers himself on one of the logs they’d brought all the way from his Grandpa’s house. At least the logs are still here, by some miracle.

“Guess you’re right,” Jonas says, then flashes Isak a grin. “Ever had whiskey?”

Isak lets out a stifled laugh, narrowing his eyes. “No.”

There’s a used needle on the ground. Isak shudders, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Want to have a taste?” Jonas asks, pulling out a bottle from his pack-bag.

Isak stares at the bottle with bewilderment. “Where did you get that?”

“Ingrid’s dad’s basement. He has like, five hundred bottles there. He won’t notice.”

The cap comes off with a pop.

Jonas wiggles his brows. He looks fucking amazing.

“Aren’t you glad I’ve got a girlfriend now?” Jonas says in a teasing tone before sniffing the bottle.

Isak simply nods, lets out a forced laugh. His chest feels tight and his face is tingling.

“You’re gonna get one soon, too. Don’t worry,” Jonas says and passes the bottle to Isak.

Isak makes a face. “Too much stress,” he says before taking a sip.

It’s like swallowing fire. His throat itches and burns.

“Fuck,” Isak groans with a grimace, covering his mouth with his hand and thrusting the bottle back to Jonas.

Jonas laughs, patting Isak on the shoulder. “You have to develop a taste for it.”

“Yeah.”

Maybe Isak can develop a taste for it. For all the things Jonas likes, for all the things he’s supposed to like. Whiskey. Girls.

“Do you think we’ll actually see them tonight?” Jonas asks then.

“See what?”

“Northern lights, obviously.”

“Huh?”

“They should appear over Oslo tonight. You seriously hadn’t heard?”

“There’s been a lot of stress,” Isak says with a shrug. “You know, with Christmas and stuff.”

Jonas nods, like he gets it. “My mom even cleaned up the fireplace. I was like chill, Mom.”

Isak feels the corner of his mouth twitch. “Why aren’t you with your girlfriend?”

“You think she’d just agree to freeze her ass out in the middle of nowhere for a 50% chance to maybe kind of see a glimpse of the northern lights?”

“Good point.”

“Actually she wanted for us to go together. I just felt like hanging out with you.”

“Geez.”

“You need some space sometimes. You know what I’m saying?”

Isak wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to know what Jonas is saying.

A faint amber light glows in the horizon, trembling, like diluted whiskey spilled across the sky, then a poison green spark that flickers and fades, flickers and fades.

It’s not the spectacle of the north Isak’s seen in pictures, but it’s a light.

It’s a light, yet all Isak wants to admire is the way Jonas’s face shines in the dark.

*

The sheets smell of sex, but they’re too lazy to care.

Their clothes are still scattered across the floor, including Even's Santa hat. Someone’s going to slip on it if they need to get up to pee at night, but they’re too lazy and sated to care.

“Do you like whiskey?” Isak asks.

Even lets out a giggle. “Are you going to pour me a glass?”

Isak hums, running his hand over Even’s glistening thigh. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“I don’t really care for it.”

“Me neither,” Isak says, rolling over onto his stomach. “What about northern lights?”

“Doesn’t everybody like them?”

“But have you seen them? Like, for real, those proper ones.”

“I think I’d remember if I had.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’d love to watch them with you some day,” Even says.

“Me too,” Isak says and yawns. “Let’s go watch them some day.”

“Okay.”

Isak kisses Even’s arm.

“Good night.”

“Good night, babe,” Even says before switching off the night lamp.

The light is gone, but Isak’s heart shines in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [isaksbestpillow](https://isaksbestpillow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come have a jolly good time!


End file.
